A Road Trip to Remember
by TallonRook
Summary: Seven Nations. One Road trip. From LA to NYC. Trying to see a boatload of tourist attractions- in under a week. An amnesiac Italy. England's cooking. The world's most fragile car. Will they get to the world conference with their sanity intact?
1. The Trip Begins

**Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia. **

**Hello, everyone. I'm Tallon Rook, and this is one of my first fanfictions I've written in a while, and it's technically my first Axis Powers Hetalia fanfiction, so if you'd like to give some constructive criticism, that'd be nice, thanks.**

**Chapter One- The Trip Begins**

Germany got of the plane at Los Angeles International Airport, thankful that the long, hellish flight was over. His attempts to sleep were ruined in the first half by Prussia, who attempted to watch all the inflight movies, and during the second half by Prussia, who, exhausted by the inflight movies, fell asleep on his shoulder, preventing Germany from falling asleep. But now, thankfully, the flight was over, and there was at least a day before the next world conference.

After getting his luggage from baggage claim, none of which his brother would carry, he decided to turn his cell phone on. The shiny gadget awoke with the flip of a switch, proudly reading 1 New Text Message! Now, there were only there people who would text Germany instead of emailing him- one who was standing right next to him, one who his heart almost fluttered at the possibility that it could be him, him, him texting him, and the third was who had actually texted him.

Germany sighed. It was, in fact America. Opening the message, he read it- _hai thar every1 this is america!1! So the new wohrld conferanse has been changed from 2morrow to next Thursday! Also it is not in LA, it is in NYC! Anyway C u thar!_ Desperately wishing America would learn about something called spelling, he stuffed his blackberry back in his pocket, about to break the bad news to Prussia.

Oddly enough, he didn't have to, as he was interrupted by the swearing of one very angry Italian, who had apparently just gotten off another flight. "What the hell? Did you have anything to do with this- don't want us to have this conference? Got my stupid brother chained up in your basement or something and don't want us to know?" Germany sighed again. Romano's ability to both dislike and be desperately concerned with the fate of his brother at the same time rather astonished him.

"Nein. I am just as concerned with Italy as you are, and just as dismayed by the change of plans." The Italian snorted.

"I'm not concerned about him," lied the Italian, "I just want to know who's kidnapping Italian nations! I could be next! Oh God, I bet it's that bastard Spain. Why didn't I realize this before?"

" You may inform everyone about your conspiracy theories at the meeting, Romano." He grabbed his luggage and his groggy brother's arm and tried to pull both away. "I, however, will need to arrange transportation to New York City."

After talking to the lady at the front desk, he was unable to procure tickets for a flight to New York at a reasonable amount, or ones that wouldn't have a layover for over a day, he was forced to rent a car. "Hey! Potato freak! Let me in your car!" Germany sighed. He did it a lot and it seemed as if there would be no signs of him stopping the habit anytime soon.

"Nein. Why would I let you in my car?"

"I could give you a couple of good reasons why…."

His reasons, unsurprisingly, were rather terrible. However, other reasons came up to him, asking if they could ride in his car, and at least Romano knew the concept of personal space.

Barrelling down the freeway at over a hundred miles an hour, Germany realized that he should never have let Romano drive. "We're on the wrong side of the freeway." This was possibly the thirtieth time he'd said it, but it never sunk into the nation's head.

"We're not on the wrong side of the freeway! This is how Americans drive!" screamed Romano, hand on the horn, ready to honk at any drivers who didn't get out of his way.

"No, no, you're thinking of Australians or something. And why would everyone else be driving on the wrong side of the road?" asked Germany. Romano shrugged and swerved. There was a soft moan from the back seat, but it certainly wasn't England, the backseat's only known inhabitant.

He swerved out of the way of another car, which shot past him, and barley missed a truck. "Maybe they're all stupid German tourists!" Germany desperately wished that he had ridden with someone else, and nearly everyone else agreed.

Suddenly, Romano swerved and began driving the right way. "What the hell are you doing? Now we're driving the right way, but in the wrong direction!"

"I'm going to pick up that hitchiker, what do you think? Poor guy, nobody will pick him up because they're all driving on the wrong DAMN SIDE OF THE ROAD!" Without even looking at the hitchhiker, Romano slammed the car to a stop in the middle of the road, not getting onto the shoulder. "Hey! Get in the back if you want a ride!" He unlocked the doors automatically, and the new passenger slid in.

"Ve~, thanks a lot!" he replied, hopping in the back seat of the car." Romano and Germany's heads instantly turned around.

"Italy?" The nation sat oblivously next to England, smiling, eyes shut in his characteristic way. "Mein Gott, Italia, what are you doing here? Do you even know how long you've been missing?" The nation cocked his head.

"Do I know you?" What? How could he forget? Wasn't… hadn't he promised that he'd never forget him? Germany's heart sank, before realizing he probably just forget him, but had forgotten everyone else as well. "You sound a bit familiar, but nope!"

"Ha ha, you potato bastard! My brother has forgotten all your weird macho ways, and will be a true Italian once more. Isn't that right?" Italy briefly opened his eyes, examined the two in the front seat, then closed them again.

"I…. I don't know either of you. Or him, or the other guy." What other guy? Him and England were the only two in the back seat, right? He looked from the road to next to Italy, found Italy and saw nothing.

Someone, however, was sitting there.

**Notes: **

**I apologize that this chapter may seem a little rushed, as I was originally intending for the next chapter to be the first chapter. Also, N. Italy will just be Italy, and S. Italy will be Romano, just because I'm lazy like that.**


	2. The World's Worst Continental Breakfast

**Disclaimer: Still doesn't own Hetalia.**

**Chapter Two- The World's Worst Continental Breakfast**

The alarm clock went off at approximately 4 am, alarming the sleeping nations in the room and making Germany wonder why he'd set the alarm so late. He'd already awoken an hour earlier, and had convinced the hotel staff to let him have the first pick of the complimentary bagels and various vegetables. Romano slammed his hand down atop where his alarm was supposed to be, but there was just a counter there instead. Opening his eyes and sitting up, Germany offered him a cucumber.

"What is this?" asked the half-awake nation. Germany stared at him.

"It's a cucumber."he replied. The other snatched it from his hands, inspecting it.

"I know what it is. But why do you even have one?"

"It's the continental breakfast. There are also prune muffins and some sort of gelatin."

Romano sighed and got out of bed. "I guess that's your idea of a breakfast, huh?" Germany shook his head.

"No. It's the hotel management's idea of a breakfast."

"Yeah, I bet that you'd have to have some sort of potato or some wurst, huh?" Germany sighed.

"Contrary to your belief, the German diet does not entirely consist of those two items." Romano laughed.

"Yeah, right. I'm going to go and see if there's anything better downstairs." After throwing on a shirt and smoothing out his hair, he left, leaving Germany alone with the other Italian nation. Despite the commotion, he still slept soundly. Germany gently shook him, but all Italy did was let out various noises and roll over.

"Italia. Wake up." He didn't respond. "Italia. Wake up. Wake up, Italy!" The nation blearily opened one eye, then closed it again. "Italy, get up. We're going in less than an hour. I have a vuvuzela and I will use it if I must."

"Oh God, please don't," Germany turned around to see England, with a plate of that odd, gray gelatin. He stared at him. "It's clam flavored, and it's actually quite good. I'll have to get the recipe sometime." Germany thought he saw a pale, worried looking nation behind England, but when he looked again, the phantom was gone. Briefly wondering if this trip had already got to him, he sighed and began to shake Italy some more.

There was a sudden, alarming honk from outside the hotel, and Italy startled awake. "Ve~ what's that noise?" Still half asleep, he pulled open the curtains and looked outside. Apparently seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he stumbled back towards the bed, but was prevented by Germany from getting into it.

"We are leaving in 35-34 now, minutes. Hurry and get dressed. There are prune muffins if you want them, Romano took the cucumber."

"I'll eat when we stop for breakfast, and-" he was interrupted by another honk. "I wonder who he's honking at?" he mumbled.

"Who's out there?" asked Germany, wondering if he should take a look himself.

"Oh, it's just some guy with a van. I guess he wants somebody to get going?" He grabbed his clothes. "I'd feel terrible if I was with him, waking everyone in the hotel up."

"As would I. Now hurry up and get dressed, we have to be in Nevada by 6."

All alone in the room again, Germany took this time to examine the neat, minute-by-minute itinerary. Or, at least he would have, if it hadn't been missing. Where was it? Did he leave it in the car? He couldn't have left it in the car, though, because the hotel confirmation slip was in there. Did he take the slip out and leave the rest of it in the car? Ah, there was Italy again. Perhaps he could ask him. "Italia. Have you seen my trip itinerary?"

"I don't know where it is- maybe that weird guy took it when he came into the room last night. And I told you, my name is not Italy or Italia, I'm Feliciano." The nation was still an amnesiac? It seemed too hopeful to assume that he could get his memories back just from being around them, but it also seemed too hopeful that he'd ever see his friend again, and look what happened. Germany sighed, pulling out his wallet. Though he hadn't kept any pictures of him with him before, after the nation's disappearance he'd been in the habit of keeping a few photographs of him around. Romano always said it was as creepy as hell, but he didn't really care. He took out the oldest one he could find, a post WWI photograph of them together, Italy smiling and waving at the camera and Germany with an expression that read, "Hurry up and take the picture already." Giving it to Italy, the brunette stared at it. "How would this be proof at all that were countries, Ludwig? I mean, I know that we know each other, and now I know that we're historical re-enactors, whatever." He inched closer to him. "um, just because I don't want to pretend that we're countries right now doesn't mean that we can't be friends, ve?" He looked up at Germany expectantly with his pretty, amber eyes. "Right?"

"Fine. But you're still coming with us to the world conference. Even if you don't believe that were not nations, we still need to find out who kidnapped you. The people at this conference will be able to figure this out."

"Okay! And I know a lot of other people there, right?"

"Right." Italy smiled cheerfully at him, then was promptly smacked by the door as Romano came in, munching on the cucumber.

"Raw cucumbers actually take alright." contemplated Romano, "though, I mean, if we're getting up this early, we should actually get a breakfast."

"This is an actual breakfast." replied Germany. Romano laughed.

"no, it's not."

"Wait, we're not getting a breakfast?" asked Italy. Germany shook his head in reply. "why not? We could always get one later, or I could cook." He paused for a moment. "I still remember how to cook. I think. I could cook, right?" he nodded to him. "Oh, good!"

"Yeah, just don't let England anywhere near the kitchen!"

"Very funny." replied England, conveniently standing behind Romano. Germany sighed and wondered if this road trip was really worth it.

**Note: I just skipped the original conversation between the two of them because I knew I was just going to rehash it here. **


	3. Prussia's Revenge

**In case you were curious, I still don't own Axis Powers Hetalia. **

**Chapter Three- Prussia's Revenge**

The countries eventually made their way out into the parking lot. This, being the least expensive but most out of the way motel, the parking lot was barley even occupied. Italy, clinging to Germany's shoulder, whispered in his ear, "There's the guy I was telling you about!" His hand extended towards an enormous vehicle, but Germany ignored him, as he had more important things to worry about. Where the hell was the car?

"West!" The blonde turned around to see his older brother behind the wheel of the car Italy had pointed to. "Thanks a lot for forgetting to untie me from the roof of the car!" Prussia jumped down from his seat to confront the other nation. "You know, my bird could have fallen off, too. I thought you'd at least let him ride in the car."

"I told you guys he was on there, but you didn't listen to me." added America, voice barley higher than a whisper. America? What was he doi-oh, that was probably Canada. That was slightly less weird. "And it took me ages to figure out how to get him off. You're really good at tying knots."

"See, Ludwig, he was the man I saw in the room last night, too!" added Italy, rather unhelpfully.

"He was in the room last night?" exclaimed Romano and Germany, possibly agreeing on something for the first times in their lives. They briefly exchanged a glance at realizing the oddness of it.

"Oh, Italy, don't you know who I am?" asked Prussia sadly. Italy shook his head.

"You're probably one of those people who pretends they're a country, right? Which one are you supposed to be?"

"I am the awesome kingdom of Prussia, Italy-I do not 'think' I am." Italy sighed.

"Oh, I didn't know that was a country! I'm supposed to know you, right?" Prussia looked at Germany, and the other shrugged in reply.

"He has amnesia." Prussia raised an eyebrow, and his bird chirped idly around his head.

"Like some sort of daytime television show? Weird."

"And he does not believe that we are nations, or refer to us by our real names." Prussia gave Germany a look.

"Yeah, I kind of got that when he called you Ludwig instead of Doitsu. Anyway, you can call me Gilbert Beilshmidt for now." The nation jumped in the car again, honking for yet another time. "Everyone get in the car! Canada, you get to ride shotgun." The doors slid back automatically, and England got in the far back, as distant as possible from Prussia. Germany sighed.

"First of all, you are not driving, and secondly, I need to find my itinerary. Did you take it?"

"Oh yeah, that?" he pulled a folder out from behind a seat, filled with color-coded papers and more mapquests than could be thought possible, and Germany grabbed for it. Prussia briefly dangled it near Germany, causing the other to leap for the object, then pulled it back. "That's gone!", he exclaimed, ripping it in half, much to his brother's horror. "This is going to be a real road trip, not whatever you had in there. First stop? We're getting some breakfast. After that? We're going to Vegas!"

Despite Germany's massive protests, everyone else was happier with the new travel plans. This car could reasonably seat six people, unlike the last one, and seemed to be a lot nicer than that one as well. The radio was blasting, the Italy brothers were conversing in Italian, which everyone was very relieved the younger could remember, and even England, reading in his back seat seemed somewhat more pleased with the car. Canada, heavy-duty earplugs in ears, slept soundly as Prussia's chicks fluttered around the front seat. The only one unhappy was, of course, Germany.

"Why are we even going to Las Vegas? There are casinos in Germany." questioned the perturbed nation. Prussia laughed, then, realizing he couldn't be heard over his rock music, laughed louder.

"Poland texted me, told me that some of the other nations are having a meet up there. Everyone's going to be there, and best of all, America's not invited. I already booked our hotel."

Germany sighed. "Well then, if you're in contact with the others, have you told them about Italy, or will I have to do that myself?"

"I heard about it last night. And just let them find out there, they're probably driving now anyway. And anyway, it'll be a good way for him to meet everyone before the conference."

"Here we are!" exclaimed Prussia, sticking the card in the door and turning the handle. He was going to present the suite with some sort of weird flourish, but as all hotel doors, it didn't open on the first try, leaving him to riddle out how to open the door. He tried sticking it in for longer, pulling it out faster, but nothing worked. England sighed, grabbed the card from him and opened the door perfectly.

Germany's first reaction was a practical one. "How much did this room cost?"

Prussia shrugged. "I don't really care, after all, since I'm paying on your card." Germany took a moment to process this, which allowed Prussia to get out of his range and across the room. He immediately began opening all the drawers, inspecting the contents of each. He found nothing more interesting than a bible and some takeout menus in the first few, but eventually he struck gold. "An awesome minibar. Nice!" The nation started rifling around in it, pulling out a candy bar, as Germany, still somewhat shocked, began to realize the situation.

"I-you, I mean, you- you can buy those outside the hotel for much cheaper."

Prussia laughed and took a bite. "Who are you, Switzerland?"

They found Japan in a nearby casino, looking as calm as a man who'd just won the million dollar jackpot could be. The lights were flashing, noises blaring, and a man was handing him an over sized prop check. "Mr. Honda, you've just won the big jackpot! What are you going to do now?" Japan shrugged.

"I'm uncertain." He stared at the giant check, as if questioning the reality of the situation. "This is somewhat of a shock."

"Ludwig, why are we watching that guy? Do I know him?"

"That is Japan, It-Feliciano. Kiku Honda." Italy's smile disappeared.

"Oh. Another country person." The amnesiac sighed, watching Germany try and push through the crowd to get to Japan, only to be blocked by the hotel security.

"Excuse me, I know him."

"Yeah, you and all those other people." Japan briefly looked out into the crowd before he was pulled away by hotel staff.

"Yes, I agree, it is a most unusual occurrence, but no more unusual, perhaps then finding a missing nation hitchhiking at the side of the road on the way to a conference where you intended to discuss plans to look for him." contemplated Japan, standing next to Germany. Though the pair was still in the casino, neither of them intended to gamble anymore tonight- though, although he didn't know it, Prussia was gambling with Germany's money. Romano sat at a blackjack table, and his brother stood behind him, perhaps attempting to remember the rules of the game. The elder appeared to be winning a vast amount of money, which was shocking to Germany, as he had remembered him being quite bad at the game.

"I suppose this is just an odd trip. And to think I tried to have it all planned out." Germany sighed and watched the casino security walk around the room, meeting up near an exit.

"Oh. What happened?"

"Prussia."

"Oh." Romano had apparently won another game of blackjack, and both siblings looked very excited. The dealer, however, was not.

"I tried to make this trip orderly and planned out. We were supposed to be much farther by now, in fact. But he had to go and make this a road trip. I was attempting to save money on a flight, but no. Why did America have to change the location of the conference, anyway?"

"I believe he did not quite realize we would be arriving so soon in advance."

"That was a rhetorical question." It was silent between them for a while, partially because of awkwardness and partially because both Italies were being thrown out of the casino, Romano yelling about how he hadn't cheated and the other just sort of smiling, half comprehending what was going on. Germany sighed. "I suppose we'll have to go somewhere else now. Anyway, so long, Japan. I'll see you at the conference." He started to follow them out the door, but Japan caught on his sleeve.

"Wait a minute, Germany. Excuse my rudeness, but you wouldn't happen to have an extra seat in your car, would you?"

"We have one left. You're more than welcome to come with us."

"Thank you very much." He sighed in relief. "I was stuck in the back seat between France and Korea."

Nothing more needed to be said.

**Some Notes: While I don't know what other hotels and/or casinos they're visiting in Vegas, the hotel that they're staying at is the Wynn Encore. I've never actually been to this hotel (as I've never actually been to Vegas) but my dad's told me it's exceptionally nice. He's also told me that his dream in life is to have his bedroom look exactly like a room from this hotel, which is sort of odd. **

**In the next few chapters we'll sort of switch to Romano's POV. Fun times.**


	4. What Happens in Vegas is Often Very Odd

**Hi there. I still don't own Hetalia. **

**For the next few chapters we'll be switching to Romano's POV. Fun city. **

**Chapter Four- What Happens in Vegas is Often Very Odd**

Romano, secretly grateful the hotel staff hadn't broken his fingers, walked down the street, trying to keep as far away from that potato bastard as possible. His stupid, easily swayed brother hung to the side of that loser, and Japan hung behind the two, even now still a third wheel. England, now somewhat drunk, that guy that looked like America and potato bastard #2 walked behind them, but were gaining speed. Great. All he wanted to do was get in another casino as soon as possible, hopefully a larger one where they wouldn't notice his techniques (which were totally not cheating), and possibly stay away from them.

"Niisan niisan niisaaan let's get married" came a horribly creepy voice behind him. Oh hell no- Russia and his crazy sister were here? And why did he always wind up meeting Belarus and Russia at these sort of gatherings, instead of Russia's other, sort of hot sister? Daring to look, he could see the intimidating, though now somewhat worried-looking nation behind him, being clung to by Belarus, who was holding multiple brochures. Even in the summer desert heat, Russia was bundled up, though thankfully the nation was without his infamous pipe. Even the thought of it brought back horrific memories to Romano, memories that he practically envied his brother for being able to forget.

Belarus shoved one of the brochures into Russia's hands, pointing out the various features. "Here in Vegas we could be married by your choice of famous Russian leaders of the last century. The package even includes free candles and half of a photo session. It's like a sign, Niisan."

Russia, however, was not as enthusiastic. "Belarus, please get off of me. I do not wish to be married to you at any place, but most especially Americas playground. Oh, look, and there is America himself."

"I'm Canada," sighed the nation, who along with PB#2 had caught up to Romano. Russia seemed confused.

"Who?"

"Canada. I live north of here."

"America, you are a terrible liar, da? I think if there was a nation above America I would have conquered it long ago."

Canada sighed, got his pocket sized map of North America halfway out, then realized that he didn't particularly want to be invaded and hurriedly stuffed it back in his jacket pocket. "Yeah, you caught me. I'm America." Russia, pleased that he seemingly couldn't be swayed by the nation's lies, smiled and looked at the other nations.

"Look, there appears to be both Italies. I thought we were going to this conference to find at least one of them." Russia, coming closer, poked his brother briefly, as if trying to decide if he was actually there or if he was just imagining things again. Italy, unsure of what to do, let Russia poke him. What had happened, wondered Romano, to rewire the Italian's instincts so totally? Normally he'd have his white flag out by now. Romano briefly considered lending his brother one of his flags, but he realized he needed all the ones he had.

"Well, we have." replied Germany. Russia smiled somewhat and started to say something, but was interrupted by Italy.

"So, you're a country person too."

"You know I'm a nation, da."

"He has amnesia," offered Germany as explanation, and Russia began to say something again, but Italy interrupted him once more.

"Which one are you?"

Russia smiled with pride. "Why, I am the glorious Russia."

"Oh." Russia's face fell at Italy's seeming disappointment. "That's not really all that accurate. Russia's supposed to be a girl- it is Mother Russia, after all?"

Russia smiled a terrifying smile. Romano remembered that kind of smile because he always screamed and ran from it.

"Hey, slow down!" He had to be at least a mile away from where he'd been before, but it didn't matter. Darting down side streets, running down alleys, he had to be far away from Russia, Russia who was probably murdering his poor pathetic brother right now. "Romano, slow down!" The speaker ran up to where he could see him, revealing himself as none other than that bastard Spain. Of all the people. "what are you running from?" The nation grabbed Romano by the shirt, which he always hated.

"Get off!" spat Romano, practically ripping Spain's hands from his shirt. "I'm running away from Russia!"

"Russia's here? In Vegas? But why would he even come here? He hates places like this!" Romano shrugged, and Spain shrugged back. Was he mocking him? "Come on in, he won't find you in here." Romano looked out into the street, then into the dark casino, wondering almost If it was better to take his chances with Russia, but the sound of a scream he practically ran in.

The small casino was almost half-empty, but most of the occupants were countries- some gambling, some drinking, some just sitting around, and one, in the case of Austria, playing the piano, the actual casino piano player sitting angrily nearby. Romano sat in a corner, pissed off that even when he was there all they wanted to talk about was his stupid brother.

"So, you say that your brothers an amnesiac and doesn't believe were countries?"

"Yeah, China, I said that about five times." Dammit, couldn't they think of anything better to talk about than his brother and his amnesia? Nobody had even whined that much when Germany got his stupid amnesia and had become the Potato Bastard he knew and hated, instead of his brother's stupid little boyfriend. I mean, was it too much to ask to have a conversation on any other topic?

"It seemed too odd to be true." Contemplated the nation.

"Yeah, well, it seems too odd to be true that you're a guy, and look how that turned out."

China, possibly less offended than he should have been, tsked slightly. "Has anyone seen Japan around?"

"I am right here." China turned around to see Japan. Great, thought Romano, the gangs arrived- now they won't even talk to me about other people. Not like I wanted to talk to them anyway.

"Ah, Japan. I was, um wondering if you had a room key, aru. For room 598- I don't think you'll want to go in the other room since France informed he would be retiring to that room with some young ladies he has met..."

"Oh. Well, I have decided to accompany Germany and his companions on his trip instead, since I do not think I will be able to stand another day, let alone the rest of the way to New York on this road trip in that back seat." China nodded in agreement, then had a sudden look of realization and horror.

"I don't blame you, Japan, but please don't inform Russia of this. He told me that he wished to-"

"Don't inform me of what?" asked Russia, gripping his hands around the Asian's shoulders. China recoiled from the touch, but Russia dug in deeper. He was smiling one of those scream and run smiles again, but Romano resisted the urge. This could have been because he was slightly drunk. "Is there an open seat in your car, China? I would like very much to travel with you, da..."

Not particularly wanting to watch this horrifying scene unfold, Romano wandered away from the group and towards the Blackjack table. It was time to finally earn that money back. And anyway, it wasn't like they were interested In him- everyone always loved his more popular brother. Even now, Spain was talking to him, rather enthusiastically. He sat down at the card table, ready to drown his pissed-off feelings in a game of blackjack.

It wasn't until he was thrown out of this casino and two others until they finally forbit him from gambling any more.

**Some Notes: In this story, I think everyone besides Italy and Germany will know that Germany's the Holy Roman Empire, only they'll be clueless. They might find out, but that bit of information will be absolutely useless to Italy until he gets his memory back. It's rather sad that both of them have forgotten their childhood love. **

**I don't know if you can get married by your choice of Russian leaders of the past in Vegas, but I bet you can. **


	5. The World's Largest Ball of Barbed Wire

**Disclaimer: Yet again, I don't own Hetalia. Edit for incorrect name of one of the songs and spacing. **

**Chapter Five- The World's Largest Ball of Barbed Wire**

Germany had once again set the alarm clock for 4 am, but Prussia had disabled it, which Romano, though he'd never admit it, was grateful for. While the country was still, in his opinion, just PB#2, he at least wasn't as much of one as his brother. Waking up at a reasonable time, he was free to order room service, choosing one of the more expensive items (then again, everything in this hotel was expensive) in an attempt to annoy Germany. However, the nation (who had eaten some kind of canned fish which had terribly stunk up one of the rooms) only raised an eyebrow at his selection, and went back to worrying about Italy, who was eating a light breakfast of some fruit and a pastry.

Eventually, the countries finished with their breakfast, and were ready to go. Prussia had called the valet service, and they were waiting, in the lobby. "Hey, Canada, do you still have that map of North America?" asked Prussia.  
"Yeah... Here, I'll get it out for you." He reached into his pocket and retrieved the map, handing it to Prussia.  
"So, we've got over a week to get to the conference. And there's about seven people I'm this car, right? So everyone should pick something they want to do, and we can see them." Unfurling the map, he pulled out his handy pen from his pocket. "West, you're first. What do you want to see?"  
"I do not wish to see anything. My wish would be for this trip to be as smooth and fast as possible."  
"Fine then, your loss. Canada?"  
"I'd like to possibly see one of Americas mountains. Maybe the smoky mountains."  
"Okay, we'll go to... Gatlinburg." He clicked his pen, scribbling a dot on the map. "That's in Tennessee. Okay, Japan?"  
"America is always telling me about his grand canyon. It is supposed to be very majestic."  
"Awesome." Prussia marked off the sites on his map as he went. It was a free, tourist map Canada had picked up at the airport, so the locations were conveniently shown. "How about you, Italies?"  
"The worlds largest ball of barbed wire." replied Romano without any hesitation. The other countries stared at him- obviously they weren't barbed wire enthusiasts like he was. Exept for Germany, he had a weird, almost aroused look on his face. Freak. Even he didn't like barbed wire that much. "It's in Oldsville, Arizona." He grabbed the pen from Prussia and marked it on his map. Riiight there. It's exit 46 1/2, right off the freeway."  
"Ohkay then… what about you, Feliciano?"  
"I don't know, ve~" He thought about it for another moment, then shrugged. "Pick for me."  
"Well, maybe you'll see something along the way. In fact, you probably will. England?"  
"I haven't been to Boston since the revolutionary war. So there, or maybe Salem. They're very close."  
"Since West doesn't want to go anywhere, you can have his day." Prussia scribbled the last location on his map, them began to connect the points, sketching a basic map between the points. One of them was marked with a star. Italy, confused, pointed to it. "Ve, where's that, Gilbert?"  
"That is King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. And I promise you that when we go there, I am getting you all T-Shirts."

Japan had offered to drive the car, and he sat now behind the wheel of the vehicle, some odd XM station playing on the radio. England sat next to him, looking out the window, and Canada and Prussia sat in the middle, the area between them occupied by Prussia's enormous "Travel Essentials" bag. Romano thought possibly none of the items in the bag were essentials, as the contents consisted of the entire contents of the hotel minibar, various other snacks, Prussia's iPod that had run out of charge, various chargers, none of which were for the iPod (though one, rather helpfully, was for the car's Garmin) and some travel books Prussia had purchased for Germany, one of which he was reading in the back seat. Well, at least Prussia was sharing the snacks. He was sitting rather too close to Germany, though at least his brother was in the way. Prussia himself was sitting rather uncomfortably in the seat, constantly shifting. Finally, he asked the question that was on everyone's mind.  
"Japan, what the he'll are you listening to?"  
"It is an XM radio station called Spa. The music is intended to promote relaxation and-"  
"Do you actually like the stuff?"  
"If I did not, would I be listening to it?"  
"And what was the song we were listening to before that? Did you supposedly like that, too?" Japan sighed.  
"it was called O Pato, the duck. I thought you would appreciate that song more yourself, seeing as how you always seemed to be accompanied by a duckling yourself."  
"They're chicks. Baby chickens."  
"I am quite aware of what a chick is."  
"Japan, please change the station. I think everyone agrees with me, they just don't want to say it."  
"I think Japans choice in music is fine. Did you hear anyone complaining about your rock music yesterday?" objected Germany.  
"Well, west, if they had, I would have ch- well, I wouldn't have. But I would have turned it down a little."  
Japan sighed. "England, please hand me my CD case. It's in my bag. England rustled around Japan's bag, and eventually came up with the case, decorated with some obscure anime character. Unzipping it, he handed it to Japan, who filtered through it, looking at the CDs. "If you would like to, I have some various Drama Cds. We could listen to those."  
"I want to listen to some music, Japan. And anyway, my Japanese is somewhat rusty. "  
"There is some old classical music, but I am certain you would not like to listen to that. Oh, here is my own tape I burned. It contains all the versions of Maru Kaite Chikyuu. I also have some of the Hetalia character tapes. I might even have yours."  
"Japan, what are you talking about?"  
"Ah, nobody ever understands. Well, I have a Blue Hearts CD. I feel as if you may appreciate that."

Luckily, everyone was slightly more pleased with this choice of music, the only negative side effect being that everyone had Linda Linda stuck in their head for the rest of the trip. By the time they arrived at the world's largest ball of barbed wire, it was the afternoon, and the summer Arizona heat was oppressive. Already, all the beverages had been drunk that had been packed, and the air conditioner had been pumped on full blast. Sadly, this had the tragic side effect of breaking the air conditioning. Japan attempted to riddle out the owners manual of the vehicle, being the only one who could read the owner manuals Engrish (the car, despite being rather nice, was from an obscure Japanese car company not even Japan had heard of). After trying for about 45 minutes to fix it, he gave up.  
"I do not believe that I will be able to fix this, Prussia. However, if you give me the paperwork, we will be able to drive it back to the closest rental place soon."  
"Yeah, about that-"  
"You didn't steal a car again?" yelled Germany ,but Prussia shook his head.  
"No way, West, not after what happened last time. This one is borrowed, from a friend of mine." Germany sighed.  
"So, we'll have to go all the way back to California just to-"  
"I got a fan!" Interrupted Italy, holding a fan, "It's battery powered too, ve!" Switching the fan on, the fan sputtered slightly and began to turn, somewhat quickly. It made an annoying whirling sound that Romano was certain would drive him insane if he had to listen to it the whole way of this trip. Well, it wasn't like that wasn't going to happen already.

"It's- it's- it's actually kind of small."added Romano, rather disappointedly. It was true- the world's largest ball of barbed wire wasn't actually that big. In fact, it was rather small for a world's largest anything. Enclosed in a hot, worn down shed complete with outhouse and gift shop, there was hardly enough room for the seven nations to stay in the shed at the same time. Italy, walking towards it, poked it. He immediately began crying.  
"VE, Ludwig, it hurts…."  
The nation sighed. "It's barbed wire. What do you expect?" His stupid brother started to cry even more, and Germany went to go comfort him, as if that would help. Well, it was a perfect photo opportunity- his brother upset, Germany annoyed, and the world's largest ball of barbed wire. Sort of pushing the other countries out of the way, he got out his camera, and started to take pictures of the whole spectacle.

While that should have been the end of that, it wasn't. Germany, always way too over-cautious, went to the local drugstore to buy some hydrogen peroxide and a pack of bandages. Was he even serious? Did he really think a little cut on his brother's finger needed medical attention? When they got back to the hotel, Germany made Italy take his shirt off so he could examine him and put the bandages on. This struck Romano as absolutely ridiculous, as his brother's cut wasn't even on his arms at all.  
"What is this, Italia?" The nation pointed to a ring of pale wounds, almost scars around the nation's upper arm, each evenly placed, perfectly lined up around his arm. Now that was something worth getting checked up.  
"I don't know, I think I got it…. Wherever I was." Italy looked blankly off into the distance for a minute, then shuddered almost instinctively. America's brother, in an attempt to help, handed Italy some ice-cream, which Romano promptly stole.

***Sorry for the super long notes- you can skip them* **

**So, there's the travel plan/plot summary for the rest of the story, though of course there will be unexpected stops along the way. Of these places, I've actually been to Gatlinburg and Boston. So their other stops may be less accurate- such as, the world's largest ball of barbed wire isn't actually in Arizona, and is only located there in this story for convienence. In addition, Germany is eating kipper snacks, which are like sardines, only different. On the topic of music- Spa is actually my Dad's favorite XM radio station. It's basically Asian music and women singing songs rather boringly that actually sounded good in the original form, though there is some weird stuff on the station. There are numerous songs called O Pato, but the only one I've heard is rather odd. The worst part is, like numerous Neil Diamond songs, I actually know the lyrics from having to listen to it so much. Japan is the only one who knows of the existance of Hetalia. In some other fun notes, I once did the backup for Linda Linda and looked like a complete idiot, though I only knew that afterwards. It's a very catchy song, though. **


	6. Of Eel Pie and Latin Hymns

**Disclaimer: Still doesn't own Hetalia. **

**Chapter Six- Eel Pie and Latin Hyms**

In all the hubbub around his idiotic brother, a tragic thing had happened. England had cooked. Eel Pie, fresh out of the oven, was cooling on the counter, releasing a sickening smell through the entire hotel room. This only caused Romano to dig into the ice-cream even more, hoping he could get away with telling the other nation he was full. And where did England even get eels anyway? It wasn't like they were in most normal supermarkets, right? Then again, this was America, land of purple butter and rainbow bread.

"Ve, this looks good!" exclaimed Italy, making Romano wonder again if they were actually related. "Did you make it, Arthur?"

England nodded. "It doesn't look like any restaurants are open now, so I made this pie." He got out a knife and began cutting it into slices, then dumped one on Italy's plate. The hungry Italian dug in, but almost instantly stopped, a look of disgust on his face.

"It's… got a very interesting flavor…" He rather sensibly turned green, shoving his fork and knife down on the table.

"It's alright, Italy. Everybody knows England's cooking sucks, and now you know too!" added Prussia, patting the nation on the shoulder as he turned even greener. "I learned that late, too. Anyway, I bet some place is open this late." He ventured off into the other room, presumably to examine the list of takeout menus.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about!" yelled England after a single shocked moment, "My cooking is just fine! Eat some more, Feliciano! It'll grow on you!"

"Or in you." Mumbled that weird blonde guy, a long-time sufferer of the country's cooking himself. England, probably not hearing him went on.

"Alfred used to love my eel pies. I don't know why you guys don't like my cooking." He sighed and began to plop the other slices of pie onto other plates, despite the fact that they would probably remain uneaten. Japan politely accepted a piece, but late that night Romano would find it hidden in the mini freezer, a single bite taken out of it.

"You're going to church with me, Feliciano." His brother looked at him with that same dumb, blank expression he wore more and more.

"Ve, what kind of church?"

"A Catholic church, since you are Catholic."

"Well, Italia did convert to Pastafarianism last y-" interjected Germany, reminding Romano of the incident he NEVER wanted to remember. His brother had, once discovering that the religion actually existed and that Prussia wasn't just pulling his leg again, splattered a giant painting of the Flying Spaghetti Monster in their living room for everyone to see and constantly asked England if he felt that his career change had contributed to global warming.

"Well, that's behind him now. Isn't that right, Feliciano?"

His brother would have slept through all of mass if he hadn't been there, muttering an occasional ve and singing along to the music in his pretty, pretty voice. Romano was always jealous of the way his brother could sing, and his musical talents in general, but the worst part now was how he seemed like a natural at it despite his amnesia, singing along (in Latin, no less) to songs that he shouldn't remember the lyrics of. In the receiving line out of the church, the priest asked him if he wanted to join the choir, being very disappointed when the nation told him that he lived in Italy and was just visiting. To Romano he gave only a handshake and a sideways glance, leaving him to mutter curses and prayers simultaneously under his breath, hoping nobody would hear.

"I think you might be going the wrong way, England." Came the soft voice of America's brother, but he was ignored yet again. The Garmin, which England had flung to the ground, yelling "I'll recalculate you!" was dead, still lying where it was, and now they only had instinct to guide them.

And his map of North America, which he kept showing to England, pointing out that New Mexico was a completely different state than Arizona, which they already were, and they were going the wrong way to the grand canyon. England, however, ignored him as usual. Romano sighed- it was time for someone who actually mattered to show them the right way. "Hey! England! We're going the wrong way!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're in New Mexico. We shouldn't be there. We went too far." England frowned.

"Well, why didn't anyone bloody well tell me?" he shouted, "It would have been nice to know a few hundred miles ago." He reached for the turn signal, got into the right lane and started preparing for his exit.

When they got off the freeway, instead of a straight in and out exit, they were confronted with another freeway, which didn't even have an exit for the next four miles, by which time they'd all forgotten how to get back on the exit and go the other way. They drove for quite a few miles on the new freeway, as England tried turning on the garmin, only to find it had de-charged. "Um, maybe we should stop for directions?" asked …. Um, that guy.

"Yeah, I agree with America's brother. C-Canada. Why don't we stop for directions?" he had to ask again, once again being the sole voice of reason who wasn't transparent- which he kind of had to be in a car with two potato freaks, that weird Japan guy, England and his brother.

"Look, Romano, please don't agree with Prussia's imaginary friend. It only encourages him."

"IMAGINARY FRIEND? I'M YOUR SON!"

"Oh God, there's somebody there!" screamed England, realizing for the first time that there was somebody riding shotgun. Canada (that was his name, right?) looked at him sadly with his purple eyes, which were pretty but reminded him of Russia's a little too much. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Canada. Your son? Everyone mistakes me for Alfred?"

England inspected the nation sitting next to him as the car went slowly off the road. "Well, I can bloody well see why!" He looked off into the distance, but failed to see the exit sign they were about to slam into. "I never knew you existed. I mean, I guess I just must remember and forget or something."

"This is the 423rd time you've learned about my existence." Added Canada, before pausing, and adding, rather quieter, "not like I'm counting, or anything." He briefly looked to the sky before he was thrown back by the airbag.

"What now? Will we have to drive all the way back to California to get a new car?" asked England, inspecting the front end of the vehicle. While it didn't look that bad (the airbags were oddly sensitive), nobody exactly wanted to drive in a car without the airbags.

"See, Germany! You said I was bad at driving, but I didn't crash the car, did I? Did I?" yelled Romano. He thought about this for a minute, then added- "At least you drove on the right side of the road."

**No notes this time, except that filler chapter was filler. Next time- we visit the Grand Canyon, and it's Japan's turn. **


End file.
